


As Good As Grown

by lizzehboo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzehboo/pseuds/lizzehboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I should grow a beard," Stiles says rather enthusiastically, preening in front of his mirror.</p><p>Stiles's further explanation takes things a little too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Good As Grown

**Author's Note:**

> What even is this? I wanted to write snappy, sarcastic dialogue. And then this happened. And I'm not sure if it's in character or what.

“I should grow a beard,” Stiles says rather enthusiastically, preening in front of his mirror.

Derek looks up from the laptop on Stiles desk, giving him a look. “What?” He definitely heard Stiles, but seems to want him to repeat it because frankly it bears repeating.

“A beard,” Stiles explains, turning around and rubbing at his chin. “Or maybe just some sexy stubble. Yeah?”

Derek turns back to the computer. “No.”

“What?” Stiles huffs.

Derek scrolls down the screen. “Aren't you supposed to be helping me map out the area to triangulate the Alphas' position? I didn't come over here for nothing.”

“Why can't I grow a beard?” Stiles whines, completely ignoring Derek's attempt to change the subject.

“Oh, I don't know. Probably the lack of testosterone. Or maybe you have no hair follicles on your face. Or maybe it's because you're _twelve._ ”

“I'm not twelve.”

“Could've fooled me. The map, Stiles.”

“I am seventeen, jerkface.”

“You are sixteen and a half.”

“Well you round up halves. So seventeen.”

“Whatever. You hit puberty. You are a naked mole rat. Just learn to live with it.”

“I have the _ability_ to grow a beard. I shave every morning.”

“ _Every_ morning?” Derek turns his chair just enough to raise his eyebrows dubiously at Stiles.

Stiles shuffles in his chair, uncomfortable, than slumps a little. “Okay. Maybe not _every_ morning.” He crosses his arms. “We can't all be bigfoot, you know.”

“Bigfoot.” Derek writes down coordinates, zooming out on the map. “Clever.”

“Yeah it is. You're a big hairy monster.”

“Yeah, almost like a werewolf or something, huh.”

Stiles glares like a scolded child. “Maybe.”

Derek sighs after a long minute of Stiles moping. “Why do you want to grow a beard, Stiles?” He knows he's going to regret asking, but if Stiles is moping, he's more useless than when he's not.

“Because! It's sexy! I want to look sexy.”

“You look like a kid.”

“That's the point. It would make me look older. I mean, it makes you look older. Like. You look like your forty or something.”

Derek's pen swerves a little on the paper. “Forty is a bit extreme.” He tries to hide the fact that he's offended.

“I could get into bars. I could buy cigarettes. I mean. I don't smoke them, but I could buy them.”

Derek puts the pad of paper down, cutting his eyes at Stiles. “You're not going to help me, are you.” He states the question because he knows the answer.

“I would get _respect._ Really though. People respect people with beards because they're badass.”

“Well, yeah,” Derek replies, the corner of his mouth quirking. He's so tempted to humor Stiles because it's about to be really good for his own ego.

“Yeah!” Stiles exclaims, completely unaware. “I mean, you walk into a room and you've got intense eyes and sexy stubble and people stare. They fucking _stare._ ”

“Do they?”

“Oh, totally.”

Derek smiles. He absolutely cannot help it. And usually he really can help it. “Do you know this from experience, Stiles?”

Stiles's eyes grow wide at the sudden realization of what he's saying.

Derek turns back to the computer, grinning because he can't help it. Stiles is absolutely stunned. “So.” Derek feigns seriousness. “And this is all according to you. I am a badass, who earns respect with my facial hair. I look like I'm forty or something, and when I walk into a room, people stare. Do I have that right?” He pauses. “Oh, and I'm also bigfoot apparently. And a jerk.”

Stiles stammers a little but doesn't form words. Derek turns back to the job at hand.

“H-h-hey. You totally missed the point,” Stiles says after a long few minutes of gawking. “I'm try to explain that _I_ need a beard.”

“Yes, I gathered that. And all the reasons you listed would apply to me already having one, wouldn't they?”

“N-no.”

“Why not?”

“B-because. You're a. Jerk. That's why.”

“That's a completely valid reason,” Derek replies, heavy on the sarcasm.

“It is absolutely a valid reason.”

“Badasses tend to be assholes, Stiles.” He leans back in his chair, enjoying himself a little too much. “It's just... _part of our charm._ ”

Stiles stares at him, mimicking one of Derek's best flat-line impressions. “Are you serious right now? Are you actually being serious right now?”

“Well, Stiles. You keep talking about how sexy beards are, but you don't know many guys with one. I mean, who else has one? Scott? No. Isaac? Same boat as you – he's a naked mole rat. Boyd? Nope. Jackson? Pfft, pretty sure he's waxed his entire body... which is...”

“Creepy,” Stiles finishes, distracted momentarily at the thought, staring off into the distance.

“So, considering all your little friends are basically hairless, one has to wonder... where on earth did you get the idea that you need a beard to be sexy? Hm?” Derek leans on his hand and waits patiently for an answer, amused. “I mean. Your dad doesn't even have a beard.”

Stiles stares. And stares. And stares. It's like he's trying to think but nothing's coming, and the frustration over it is apparent. Derek almost expects him to break a sweat.

“Uhh... um... Allison's dad... has... a beard.”

“So you want to bang Allison's dad? That's interesting.”

“ _NO!_ No. I do not.”

“Then what? You want to bang me?”

“What?” Stiles laughs nervously, looking like a cornered animal. “Wha-haaat do you... even... mean... by... that? Y-you know what? I'm fine being a naked mole rat-- I mean. Not naked. I mean. What? Is happening?” Stiles wheezes a little, his face glowing red.

Derek tries really hard not to laugh. He really does. But laughing at Stiles's expense seems to be the best reason he can think of.

“Don't laugh at me, asshole!”

“Part of my charm,” Derek replies.

“Let's work on the map!” Stiles yelps, turning so hard in his computer chair that he ends up doing a complete circle.

“I finished it,” Derek says easily. “You were too busy preening and talking about how sexy I am.”

“Will you stop that? Please?”

“Mmm, no. I get so little enjoyment out of life. Let me soak this up a little.”

“I hate you.”

“Your mouth says I hate you, but it also says I'm a sexy badass.”

“Fuck you. So much.”

“It's all about my beard, hm? You wanna touch it? Hm?”

“Stop enjoying this.”

“Never.”

Stiles runs his hands down his face, miserable. Derek draws a triangle on his crudely drawn map. After a long few minutes, Derek begins to be a little disturbed by the silence. He briefly thinks that he might have broken Stiles, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it's weird.

Then, Stiles's hand lifts quietly, and he strokes one finger down Derek's cheek. Derek stares straight ahead, completely disturbed.

“Prickly,” Stiles muses.

“Uhhh... yeah,” Derek says, not looking at Stiles. “It can be itchy sometimes.”

Stiles scratches Derek's cheek with the one finger. It's so weird. Derek finally reaches up and wraps his fingers around Stiles's wrist, then casually lowers it. “Please stop touching my face.”

“You asked if I wanted to touch it,” Stiles argues.

“I didn't give you permission to.”

“It's softer than I expected,” Stiles continues, reaching up again to stroke Derek's beard. “How can something be soft and prickly?”

Derek pushes Stiles hand down again, tingles running up the back of his neck. “Stop it.”

“Why?” Stiles asks quickly, his eyes twinkling with boyish mischief. “Why? Does the _badass_ werewolf like to be pet? Hm? Hm? HMMMMM?”

Derek twists Stiles' arm behind his back, standing with ease. Stiles curls. “Ah ah ahhhhh! OW! DUDE!”

“I told you to stop it.”

“Part of your charm I assume?” Stiles grunts, wrenching out of Derek's grip and rubbing his wrist. “How come your allowed to have fun at my expense but I'm not allowed to have fun at yours?”

“Because I can hurt you.”

“Noted.” Stiles answers quickly, having another nervous laugh.

Derek rubs the back of his neck.

“So. Truth time.” Stiles huffs. “Maybe I did get the beard idea from you.”

“Maybe?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Stiles pauses. “Well? Ridicule me. Go on. I can take it.”

Stiles cheeks are still flushed and he looks down at the floor.

“Don't be pathetic,” Derek says, frowning. “You're making it significantly less fun.”

“I don't want this to be fun for you.”

“Sure you do.”

“No. I really really don't.”

“Oh, I see. You prefer my _intense eyes._ ”

“God damn it! Why isn't this overrrrr?!” Stiles whines, smacking a hand to his face.

Derek pulls Stiles's hand away easily, smirking at him. Stiles glances at him with big doe eyes.

“You couldn't pull off a beard,” Derek says casually. “Too doe-eyed. You'll look like you're trying too hard.”

“Pull off _your_ beard,” Stiles mutters bitterly.

“Werewolf ears,” Derek responds in warning.

Stiles reaches up and tugs at some of the thick hair around Derek's sideburn.

“Ow!” Derek slaps Stiles's hand but he doesn't pull away.

“Pfft, you have werewolf healing abilities. I could pull every hair out of your head and I'm sure it'd just grow back.”

“Will you stop being obsessed with my hair?”

“Oh, but you were having so much fun with it a few minutes ago.” Stiles makes a face, raising an eyebrow and reaching higher, tugging more on Derek's hair.

“Stop it.”

“It's so soft and fluffy. I thought it'd be full of product.”

“Really.” Derek rolls his eyes. “You're doing this.”

Stiles stands up on his toes, ruffling Derek's hair. “You gotta tell me your secret dude. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with my hair.”

“Stiles.”

“I mean, wow--”

“Stiles, stop.”

“I mean, do people grab onto this when they french you? They must--”

“ _Stiles._ ” Derek grabs both of Stiles's wrists this time, yanking them down with ferocity. His hair is most definitely sticking out in odd places after Stiles has successfully rifled through it.

Stiles smiles pathetically, not to mention a little warily. “Oh... h-hey. There's that intense stare I was talking about... earlier. You know. That. Thing? That made you laugh? And. You know. Not wanna kill me?”

“I don't want to kill you, Stiles.”

“Oh, that's good, because I--” Stiles makes a muffled noise against Derek's lips when he leans in and kisses him. Stiles's back arches in surprise and Derek curls an arm around it.

There's a swirl of tongue against tongue and then Stiles's hands tangle in Derek's hair and pull him closer. When Derek pulls away, Stiles looks dazed and a little disheveled himself.

Stiles rubs at his face. “Huh.”

“What?” Derek asks.

“That's pretty awesome.”

“Thank you?”

“You're welcome.”

Derek's not really sure what just happened. He knows he made out with Stiles, which, hey, that's already ridiculous. But now Stiles is just going on like it's no big deal. When to Stiles, _everything_ is a big deal.

“Can you do that again? Except, like, all over?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“It's all... prickly. It tickles. Makes me want to just like, rub my face all over your face.”

“That's... not usually the response I get.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to grow a beard to have one against my face.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

“Except it's not.”

“No, it is.” Derek kisses Stiles again and he's clueless as to why. “It really is.” He kisses Stiles's neck. “So stupid.”

“It can be as stupid as you want,” Stiles breaths, leaning into Derek's mouth, “As long as you keep doing that.”

Derek pulls back and looks Stiles up and down. “So you actually did want my beard against your face.”

“Or. You know.” Stiles mumbles. “Wherever.”

“Well, look at you,” Derek says, smirking. “So forward.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Guess you don't need a beard to be a badass after all, hm?”

Stiles grins.


End file.
